Guilt
by HelleBoreHunt
Summary: He was gone. Kidnapped. At the mercy at the Decepticons. And Optimus was now stuck with his thoughts and his guilt, with no respite in sight.


**A/N: The lovely AnimeFTW suggested I write about how Optimus felt after Smokescreen ran from the base and was subsequently captured. I hoped I wrote it well! Also, this takes place before Invasion of Memory. The series order can be found on my profile.  
Warnings: None**  
**Disclaimer: Not mine**

Optimus cursed in his mind as Smokescreen tore out of the base. He watched him go, fighting the urge to call after him. He stepped forward as Bulkhead did, stopping him from following after Smokescreen.

"Smokescreen is young, Bulkhead, and has much to learn." The words were bitter as he said them. He despised lying to his team, but he couldn't tell them the truth as much as he wanted to. That Smokescreen wasn't what he appeared to be on the surface. That he was a warrior just like the rest of them. "But right now, he needs to clear his thoughts. And I need to finish decoding the final Iacon entry." And clear his own thoughts. He turned back to the console, hearing the rest of the Autobots disperse.

Which is why he was startled when a servo came to rest on his arm. He turned from the database to meet concerned optics.

"Optimus, are you sure that's wise?" Ratchet asked. "You know how reckless Smokescreen normally is. Emotionally unstable-"

"It is better than sending someone after him who might inadvertently say something to make him even more upset." Optimus turned back to the database. "We must have faith in him."

"Uh-huh. You sure that's the reason you stopped Bulkhead?"

Optimus turned to face Ratchet again. He had the look on his face that warned he was done with your nonsense and close to the point of smacking sense into your helm. His response was cut off however by the beeping of the console. His attention switched to that, then back to Ratchet.

"Ratchet, assemble the other Autobots. The final coordinates have been decoded."

Ratchet grumbled, but did as told. Optimus turned to the screen, watching it closely in anticipation.

He heard his team gather behind him, and opened his mouth to say something when the console beeped again. He frowned, reaching for the keyboard.

"There must be a layer of secondary encryption." he murmured, tapping a few keys. He heard everyone talking behind him, but not the words, too focused on the image on the screen. It looked familiar, in a way, but he couldn't place it exactly… His optics widened a second before the image fully cleared.

"Smokescreen?"

Optimus clenched his servos. He knew that Smokescreen had served under Alpha Trion, but did that mean…

"Is this that hot shot's idea of a joke?"

"Maybe he knows where the key is."

"And never bothered to mention it?"

"A more likely possibility is that Smokescreen himself somehow _is_ the key, without knowing it."

Optimus shook himself out of his stupor. This was bad. Smokescreen was out there, somewhere, and who knew how long it would be until the Decepticons had the same information…

"Whatever the case, he could be in grave danger." he heard himself say. He activated his comm. ::Smokescreen, return to base immediately.::

Silence. Not even the static of a comm. being received but unanswered. Optimus' spark seemed to be suddenly constricted.

"He may have deactivated his comm. link." Ratchet supplied. "He was very upset when he left."

Optimus nodded, not missing the way Arcee shuffled nervously in place. "Locate his position, and prepare the GroundBridge." It came out much stronger than he felt, though was still tinged with desperation.

Ratchet nodded, and took Optimus' position at the console. Optimus turned to the assembled Autobots. "Arcee, can you come with me?"

Arcee nodded, following him deeper into the base. He stopped in a hallway, away from the optics and audios of their comrades. "Arcee, you know that whatever happens, it is not your fault." he said, kneeling in front of her.

"I should have stopped when you told me to. I shouldn't have been so harsh to him. He's just a kid." She grabbed her arm in what Optimus knew to be a nervous gesture. "I just can't help but feel responsible. I drove him off. And now if something happens…"

"It does not all fall upon you, Arcee. We are all at fault. None of us have exactly been the most hospitable to Smokescreen." And Optimus remembered, in vivid detail, how Smokescreen had looked to him right before he had left.

"_Maybe I'm just not good enough!"_

Optimus willed the thought away. There would be time later for them to talk. He hoped.

"Please do not blame yourself, Arcee. He has not lived through this war like we have. It is only natural that he acted and reacted the way he did."

But was it? He was usually so cheerful, full of life and rolling with the punches. Why was it that he suddenly felt the need to cut and run? Had something happened that Optimus wasn't aware of? Was it the result of the hit he took from Megatron's Dark Star Saber? He just didn't know. It was eating at him.

"I'm sure he will be fine, Arcee. He is a warrior in his own right." He forced a smile. Arcee returned it, though it wilted at the edges.

::Optimus, I have located him. The Bridge is ready.::

Optimus stood. "Ratchet has prepared the GroundBridge. You can make amends with Smokescreen once we retrieve him."

Arcee nodded, heading to the command center. She still looked weary, but not nearly as bad as before. Optimus hung back a moment, giving himself a moment to gather himself. He sent a quick prayer to Primus as he charged through the Bridge, hoping that Smokescreen would be okay.

Optimus sat in his dark quarters, helm buried in his servos.

Smokescreen was gone. Kidnapped. Optimus just kept seeing it over and over again, Soundwave dragging Smokescreen's limp body through the GroundBridge. Was he even alive? Optimus' spark fluttered uncomfortably. And he hadn't been able to save him. He had been _right there. _Just a few seconds faster, and he could've reached him. Saved him. Optimus offlined his optics.

"_Maybe I'm just not good enough!"_

Maybe it was Optimus that wasn't good enough.

What were they doing to him up there? Was he okay? Were they torturing him? Optimus shivered, images flooding his mind unwanted of what they might be doing to him. Megatron had no morals. He wouldn't hesitate to do any damage to Smokescreen, physical or otherwise, to get what he wanted.

And what was that even? Was Smokescreen the key? Did he have information as to where it was?

Too many questions, and nowhere near enough answers.

Optimus remembered the pain, the fear, that filled him when he saw Smokescreen being dragged. When the GroundBridge closed just as he reached it. He remembered shouting as in closed, agonized that he was too late. That he couldn't keep him safe.

The return to base had been solemn and silent. The Bridge whirled to life, and they all trudged through slowly, each step measured and forced. None of them wanted to admit that they had just lost Smokescreen, for different reasons. Optimus had waited as he exited the Bridge for Arcee, knowing she would need someone to talk to (though he was in no condition to do it really), but she was already being talked to by Bulkhead. Bumblebee was dragging his pedes behind them, helm down and wings drooping. He beeped forlornly at the other two, and followed them towards their quarters. Which left Optimus alone with Ratchet.

"No good then?"

Optimus sighed. "No. The Decepticons… have captured him."

Ratchet cursed. "Brilliant." He crossed his arms. "Now what do we do?"

Optimus looked down. "I do not know." He sighed and rolled his shoulders. "Get some rest Ratchet. We will figure out a solution tomorrow when everyone is of a better mind."

Ratchet nodded and retreated to his quarters as well. Optimus followed suit.

But now what? What solution was there to be found? They couldn't just storm the Nemesis. And without knowing where he was being held, or where the Nemesis even was, it would be near impossible to go and get him using any form of stealth. There options were very, very limited.

With a low whine and a rumble of his engine, Optimus curled up on his berth, pressing one servo over his spark and wishing desperately that there was a body curled up against his, and that there would be one soon.

"_Maybe I'm just not good enough!"_

Did Smokescreen really feel that way? Because he was so wrong. He was more than good enough- he was amazing. Had Optimus made him feel that way?

Optimus' thoughts screeched to a halt. Had he made Smokescreen feel that way? Had he done anything to him lately to make him feel that he wasn't good enough? He had been busy lately, doing little more than work on the database and recharging… had he been ignoring Smokescreen enough to hurt him? But why hadn't he said anything? Optimus shivered. He never meant to hurt him. Never. It was the last thing he would ever want. But it was possible he had. And now he might never be able to apologize. His spark pulsed painfully at the thought, whirring beneath his chestplates.

With a choked sob, Optimus fell into a restless recharge, haunted by images of Smokescreen, tortured and alone.


End file.
